Noblesse Oblige
by Breeze2
Summary: 'Whoever claims to be noble must conduct himself nobly'.    One day in the library, Peter finds himself considering the true meaning of chivalry.


Noblesse Oblige 

Author's Note: I am afraid that this piece of writing is:

Nostalgic

Very "English"

I have been fully employed in the land of work for over a year now and after four glorious years at university I really do miss it sometimes and as a result, I get a little nostalgic for the "good old days" of my higher education. This fic is a little dedicated to Cambridge University and its delightful "English-ness". The incredible thing is that it has not changed for hundreds of years, so please forgive my nostalgia and enjoy this little fic about a 'Peter friendship'.

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_From The Illiad to Gawain and the Green Knight, the concept of the epic tale is something that was greatly celebrated and idealised in ancient literature. This notion of the 'epic' is one that has been interwoven throughout literature. From Le Morte D'Arthur, to the re-imaginings of Sir Walter Scott, this concept of 'epic quest' is one that is both timeless and yet unreachable in today's society._

With a quiet grunt of annoyance, Peter Pevensie slammed the large volume of literary criticism shut. He ignored the glares that were being thrown at him by other students and pushed the dusty tome aside to scan through his notes. There were several pages of large, curled writing consisting of either copied down quotes or ideas taken from the mountain of books he had been attempting to sift his way through that day.

For a moment the script seemed to swim before his eyes, betraying the fact that his brain felt as though it was made of cotton wool and was now refusing to work after several hours of focussed study. Very willing to admit defeat, Peter made a show of stacking his books neatly together and searching rather too loudly for his satchel under the table.

This performance was watched with great amusement by a tall, gangling young man with thin framed glasses and an infectious smile.

"Declaring your willingness to abscond, Pev?" he enquired, sliding a bookmark into the page of his own volume.

Peter merely grinned. "You could say that."

"Well I think your overacting already did," his friend remarked wryly as he searched for his pencil. "And I am very willing to admit defeat for the evening."

"Well it is nearly six," Peter remarked, glancing at the far clock, "We've been at this since ten o'clock. I think that's pretty good going."

"Stanely Hintock on my course wouldn't agree," his companion replied. "He'd call us part-timers for only working seven and a half straight hours."

"Well unlike Stanley we happen to have a life outside of academia," Peter responded, winding his college scarf around his neck.

His companion pulled an expression of mock-horror. "Heaven forbid Peter!" he exclaimed. "Never let me hear you saying such things. We have the great honour of studying at this great and ancient institution of learning and consequently the entirety of our degrees must be spent buried in these ancient tomes of greatness." He waved his arms as he spoke, gesturing to the endless rows of books which lines the walls of the Reading Room.

Peter snorted. "You really do speak the great load of rubbish sometimes, Sheridan, you know that?"

Henry Sheridan gave a mock-bow before grinning in agreement. "It's part of the reason you put up with me Pev," he stated, piling his books into a worn leather satchel. "I enrich your existence with my humour."

"Or absurdity," Peter muttered, checking that he had all of his books. "But still, there must be something about you that I find amusing or I don't know how I'd put up with your antics."

Once outside the restraint of the University Library, Henry gave Peter a playful shove before charging ahead of his friend down the steps. In full pursuit, Peter managed to grab his friend in a headlock and then proceeded to ruffle his carefully parted hair with great alacrity before releasing him. Henry stumbled back, straightening his glasses with a growing expression of mock outrage while Peter roared with laughter. He was about to return the attack when a clearing throat caused them both to straighten.

Not five metres away two girls stood watching them with expressions of greatest amusement. The taller of the two was laughing brightly, her dark eyes dancing.

"A demonstration of Trinitarian restraint, Peter?" she inquired.

Peter grinned. "The greatest example of it Tess," he responded, reaching down to retrieve his bag. He was amused to observe how quiet Henry had suddenly become. It often took a great effort to restrain his friend's boisterous behaviour.

"How are you finding Lampert's latest essay?" she asked.

Peter frowned. "Ghastly," he admitted. "I've been reading all day and I'm starting to develop a line of argument but I don't agree with a lot of what the critics say."

"Isn't that all the better?" Tess suggested. "You can pick apart their arguments. What texts are you focussing upon?"

"Probably _The Heart of Darkness _and _Gawain and the Green Knight," _Peter replied. "Though I was thinking that I may touch on _Le Morte D'Arthur _as well. It'll be something about the notion of the medieval hero anyway."

Tess nodded. "Well you sound more decided that I am. I keep dithering between the comedy of Chaucer and the symbolism of _Dante's Inferno._"

Peter smiled. "Well good luck with _Dante's Inferno_, it's a fantastic poem but I couldn't do it justice in three thousand words."

Tess laughed and was about to respond when the clock struck the hour. Her friend suddenly plucked at her arm, "Tess, we've still got to cycle back to college, we need to hurry."

Tess reluctantly agreed. "You're right Felicity. You go and unlock the chain for me; I'll only be thirty seconds." With a nod, her friend moved off carrying the key.

Tess smiled once more. "You Trinity boys really are spoilt in the town centre. You should try having to cycle from Girton and see how it suits you afterwards."

"Oh it's very good for you," Peter laughed, "Not being able to row; you delicate females need to find some form of suitable exercise."

"We'll see about that, Mr Pevensie," she retorted. "Well good luck with your essay, I suppose you'll be finished typing before I've even done my reading."

"It's just my great organisational skills, Miss Spencer," he said with a grin. "See you tomorrow, don't work too hard."

With a parting smile Tess hurried after her friend.

The two young men walked away from the towering front of the library, moving steadily through Clare Colony. It was only once they had paused to cross the road by the Backs that Henry addressed his friend.

"How do you do it, Pev?"

Peter blinked. "Do what?"

"Manage to charm a girl as pretty as Theresa Spencer?"

Peter shook his head as they turned down the Avenue. A long, dusty road lined with beech trees that led to the main courts of Trinity. "I wouldn't call it charming her Sheridan. Tess is just a chum. We have the same supervisor for the medieval literature course and she also has a wonderfully dry sense of humour."

"Has her beauty also escaped your notice?"

"I don't know what to say, Henry. I just don't see Tess in that way."

Henry regarded his friend seriously for a moment.

"You know, that's actually true."

"What is?"

"For all your joking around, you do seem incredibly old fashioned at times, Pev."

Peter stared at his friend. "What do you mean?"

"In the way you are with girls and women in general. You're incredibly respectful in your actions, the way you open doors and offer them your arms. I swear I almost even saw you bow once."

Peter flushed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Henry grinned with amusement. "I think you do. It was last term when Professor Lloyd's wife came for the undergraduate Christmas formal. You nodded your head and your back almost followed when you moved to shake her hand."

"Honestly Sheridan, I think you'd had a little too much port."

"No I clearly remember it. If I recall, I believe the lady in question remarked on your 'exquisite manners'."

Peter strode ahead, attempting to leave Henry behind as he strode through Neville's court. Henry simply followed, enjoying himself immensely.

"Do you think we have time to change before dinner?" Peter asked as they entered the largest Central Court, heading for the Porter's Lodge and their rooms across St John's Street.

"Probably if we hurry," Henry replied. "But I wish to talk about Mrs Lloyd."

"I don't," Peter firmly stated, opening the door to their staircase with a little too much vehemence. "I have answered your questions and now I want you to drop the subject. I have endured your baiting, so let's go to dinner and change the topic of conversation."

With a smile, Henry agreed; though he could not help being amused by Peter's overreaction to his questions. It seemed that his friend was hiding something and he didn't understand why.

But then, Peter Pevensie had always seemed rather different to others he had met at Trinity. Though they were all from similar backgrounds, the sons of either the aristocracy or well-do-to members of the middle class; Peter had always had manners that seemed more polished than even the highest-born lord. Where they were all respectful to the fairer sex, Peter was something more. He was polite, respectful and even courtly at times.

He was also incredibly discerning with an almost innate ability to tell whether someone was lying. In truth, Peter had a greater sense of honour than any person that Henry had ever met. Even in something as trivial as cards he insisted upon genuine sincerity; which probably why Pev was so dreadful a poker player.

With a growing smirk, Henry quickly washed; wondering at his friend's behaviour as he smoothed his hair and searched for a dinner jacket. He was just putting on his gown when he heard a nearby clock strike the quarter hour, swiftly followed by a knock on his door. Quickly straightening his bow tie, he hurriedly opened it to find Peter waiting on the other side.

Dinner was always a rather grand affair at Trinity, when the undergraduates filed into the Great Hall in their dark blue gowns, standing behind their benches as the college grace was spoken by the master, Professor Trevelyan. It was a tradition that Henry had always rather enjoyed, greatly appreciating the tradition and grandeur of their college.

Peter too always showed a certain enjoyment in it but tonight he seemed rather distracted as he stood next to his friend. He was clearly not listening as his gaze wandered idly around the edges of the hall, taking in the portraits of past masters and deans that lined the walls. He was not the only one who noticed.

"Penny for your thoughts, Pev?" their friend James Marshall asked as they all sat down after the grace, "you seem away with the fairies."

Henry laughed and even Peter grinned slightly. "Not quite the fairies Marshall, but quite close," he stated. "I was just remembering a time from my childhood, when I was evacuated."

James blinked. "Really? I've always tried to forget that time. My mother sent me to stay with this dreary old great aunt in Scotland. I spent most of my time running around doing chores for her. I couldn't wait to get back to London."

Henry stared at James in surprise. Among most people the war was a taboo subject which was little mentioned; but as always James prided himself on speaking his mind and openly discussed the topic.

"Were you evacuated Sheridan?" Peter asked, "I suppose you would have been rather safe living in rural Oxfordshire?"

"Yes we were rather far out, but my mother took in two boys from Oxford. They turned out to be very good company and we had a rather jolly time together."

"Did you chaps ever consider signing up underage?" Peter inquired.

James nodded. "Right from the age of fifteen, but my problem was that I was so small. Didn't have my growth spurt until I turned seventeen and by that time the war had ended."

Henry considered the question. "I never did," he mused. "But then I always expected to go straight into the navy when I turned eighteen. When the war ended Father suggested that I might enjoy a change of scene so they sent me here."

"What about you Pev?"

Peter nodded immediately. "When we were sent away I was desperate to enlist," he stated. "But I had a rather interesting time away shall we say and my perspective changed somewhat. My Mother asked me to look after my siblings and I suddenly felt rather responsible for them. I couldn't just think about myself anymore."

Henry nodded. "I was always very protective of my little sister Rachel when we went away with our cousins. I suppose it's a brotherly thing."

"What was so interesting about your time away, Pev?" James asked, "I always thought mine very dreary."

Peter seemed to contemplate the remains of his soup for a moment before replying.

"Lots of things," he eventually replied. "We were put in contact with this old professor who lived out in rural Derbyshire and he invited us to stay in what can only be described as a manor. It was a beautiful old stately home more nooks and crannies than the UL."

James grinned. "Well that doesn't sound too bad."

Peter smirked. "It did have it's perks. Though there was an old dragon of a house keeper who was obsessed with the belief that children should be seen and not heard." He laughed. "My sister Susan once broke the nose off an old bust of some long-dead poet and hid it up in the cavernous attics. I think it's still there to this day."

They all laughed.

"Did the housekeeper ever notice it was gone?" Henry asked, his eyes dancing.

"I think she might have eventually," Peter remarked, "but the professor discovered it almost immediately and said that he had always hated the bust anyway." His smiled softened with memory. "He's a great man."

"Have you returned to the house since you were evacuated? We've had Bill and Charlie over every summer since 1945, they call our village their 'country escape'."

Peter shook his head. "The professor had to sell his house at the end of the war to save money. But I have been to stay at his new cottage. He tutored me the holiday before I took the Higher Certificate."

"That's a shame, it sounds like it would have been a brilliant place to visit," James said. "There's something fascinating about old houses."

"True," Henry agreed. "But personally, I prefer the present. People are always harking back to 'the old days', there's so much going on in the here and now."

James suddenly smiled slyly. "That's very true, like the mention of a certain friendship dance at the Corn Exchange." Peter and Henry were suddenly all attention.

"When?" Peter demanded.

"It's on 9th March apparently, to celebrate the end of the Lent Term," James replied. "Would you chaps be up for it?"

"Rather."

"I'll say!" The three friends grinned at each other.

"But the question is," James went on. "Who are you both planning to invite?"

Silence reigned for a time.

Peter found himself considering every girl from his course, and each time he found his mind coming to rest on Tess. He would most definitely want to take a girl who shared his sense of humour, and Tess was so easy to get along with. But did he feel anything for her beyond common friendly affection? He honestly wasn't sure.

He turned to look at his friends and found that Henry had turned a rather dark shade of pink. James was observing with an air of great amusement.

"Got someone in mind, Sheridan?" he inquired, causing his friend to flush even more darkly. "I personally would like to take one of those pretty teachers from Homerton out. I've met a couple at the pub who were very affable, and they found my jokes hilarious."

Peter rolled his eyes. James had developed quite a reputation for his 'amusing jokes' with the young ladies of Homerton College, a teacher training school to the south of Cambridge. When he turned it on he could be incredibly charming. Though, saying that, it was a long established tradition that Cambridge men went to Homerton to 'find their wives' and he did not doubt that James might continue this ritual after his graduation.

"What about you Pev?" James asked, "Do you know who you might take?"

"A couple of ideas," Peter replied, feigning nonchalance. "Though I'll ask a girl because I get on with her, rather than judging her by looks."

"You make me sound like a Philistine!" James exclaimed. "Just because I show appreciation for pretty young women does not make me a chauvinist."

"Yes, because Bertha Tomlinn was such an academic," Henry murmured. Peter snorted in to his wine glass.

For the first time, James reddened slightly. "I took Bertha as a favour to my mother!" he protested. "She was the daughter of her friend ..."

"And also happened to be incredibly pretty ..." Peter added.

"If somewhat lacking in the brain department," Henry finished with a grin.

James looked offended. "Just because I happen to admire a young woman for something other than her brain does not make me shallow," he stated. "I just happen to like attractive girls laughing at my jokes."

Not in the least contrite, Peter and Henry proceeded to rib James about Bertha and that memorable night throughout the main course and were still in full flow as the pudding bowls were being taken away. It was only once they rose to leave that James managed to steer the conversation towards the safer topic of what they should do that evening.

Henry left them with a groan to finish a Latin translation which he was due to hand in the next day, leaving Peter and James to saunter over to the Union for a drink at the bar. They enjoyed a few pints of beer and were starting to meander home when Peter found himself considering the various conversations of the day.

Though he had wanted to deny it, he still found himself reminiscing about times in Narnia. It was not constant, but often, a small thing would remind him about some aspect of their reign. During his reading that day, he had found himself considering the notion of the 'epic hero' from personal experience; for he _had_ lived at a time where the honour of a knight was his word and his bond. He had lived his life by the knight's code and upheld it as king. Or in a recent watching of _The Adventures of Robin Hood_, he had been amused by Errol Flynn's portrayal of the outlaw, but also struck by his respect and dutiful behaviour towards Maid Marian. Even in his attitude to Tess, Peter found himself remembering past times and the different person that he had been in Narnia. As a king, he had treated women with utmost respect and care. It now seemed incredible that the full grown man who had been High King Peter the Magnificent was now studying for an Arts degree and trying to work up the courage to ask a pretty girl to a dance.

But he was, and despite his greatest denials to himself, he knew what he could not avoid the truth.

He wanted to ask Tess to the friendship dance.

"You in a dream again, Pete?"

Peter turned to his friend. "No, just having a good old think."

"About anything particularly riveting?" James asked, his eyes slightly closed as they always became after drinking a little too much.

"Not really. I've just made a decision about something."

His friend suddenly grinned. "This decision wouldn't have anything to do with a certain Miss Spencer would it?"

Peter shrugged. "It might do. I'll tell you when you're a little less inebriated."

With a decided snort James veered towards his corridor. "I'll get it out of you in the morning Pev. Right now I am in need of sleep."

"Good night, James," Peter called with a grin as his friend meandered up the stairs.

He turned to his own corridor and considered as he climbed the stairs. For all his memories of reigning and kingship, he wondered if past experience would make asking Tess to the dance any easier. With a groan, he came to the conclusion.

It didn't give him any help at all.

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'Noblesse Oblige' is an old French phrase which literally means: "noble ancestry constrains to honourable behaviour; privilege entails to responsibility".

UL- The Cambridge shortening for the University Library which is a huge building that holds a copy of every book ever published in Britain since publishing began.

Lent – The term in the UK from January to April traditionally. (Although in Cambridge they have ridiculously short terms of 8 weeks which is a very long held tradition).

Professor Trevelyan was the dean of Trinity between 1941 – 1956.

An academic gown is a bit like a black robe and they are always worn at formal dinners at Trinity (although Trinitarians wear a dark blue gown).

It is also a tradition that Cambridge boys did go to Homerton College to 'find their wives' (I was a Homerton girl myself!).

The film referred to in the 1938 film _The Adventures of Robin Hood_ starring Errol Flynn which proved widely popular and repeats were frequent in cinemas throughout the 1940s.

I have taken a liberty with this:

-Literary criticism did not become an accepted area of academia until 1948 when it became an official concept of literary study (moving from the focus upon the critical structure of language rather than literature by itself) and it might not have been in the Cambridge syllabus in the year of 1947 (when I am setting this). But I have taken liberties and written Peter reading some criticism.

Please forgive me but this is the only liberty I have taken!

I hope you enjoyed my little trip into Peter's university life and enjoyed the little touches of Narnia that he discovered! Thanks for reading and please review!

Breeze.

Nostalgia


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